The Goodbye Kiss
by madame nonchalant
Summary: There's a storm on the horizon. Mello feels it one cold night as he leaves to do his laundry. And with the coming storm, some things need to be said before it hits. The laundry can wait while unfinished business still lurks.


**The Goodbye Kiss**

It was cold.

Freezing, and Mello had only brought a down jacket to cover his sleeveless vest, and he wore it open. The wind bit through his tight pants. He clenched his jaws together as it seeped in a numbed his thighs. His jaw was sore. If he bit any harder it felt like his teeth would shatter.

A television flashed through the glass front windows of a bar. That greedy bastard Demegawa had died on live television yesterday, brought down by Kira.

Mello shrugged tighter into his coat and fingered the cellphone in his pocket. This was becoming Kira's world faster and faster, and he couldn't do anything about it until either the SPK gave him more information or Matt finished setting up the bugs and surveillance for Misa Amane and the Second L's supposed headquarters.

Since all of this was being done and Matt didn't need him, Mello decided to do the laundry. He had the bag full of Matt's dirty shirts and pants and his own things slung over his other shoulder. The laundry mat he planned to go to was in one of the shadier parts of town, but Mello didn't care.

He had a gun and a burn scar that took up half his face. He wasn't worried about people asking unnecessary questions.

Mello stepped through the sliding doors to the laundry mat and brought the chill in with him. He swept the laundry mat, eyes lurking on suspicious characters, checking all their pockets. Mello was tough, but he wasn't stupid. If someone looked armed, he wasn't going to get into a fight that might end badly.

His eyes lingered the longest on a large blonde man in the corner, who was carefully folding several white pajama shirts, followed by some boxers that looked about the size for a fourteen-year-old and some long white cotton pants. Then there were ties, more men's boxers, and lastly, some ladies' underwear.

Mello hesitated before taking a washer as far away from _that_ corner as possible. He opened the drawstring on his laundry bag and realized his hands were shaking. He knew that man--Anthony Lester. And if that man was nearby..

If he was here...

That meant...

_Near_ was close by.

The blood in Mello's neck froze, his face drained, and suddenly he was colder than he'd been outside. What did he do now? It looked like Lester would be done folding soon, and then he'd leave.

Mello could follow him, abandon the laundry, follow him and find that little Near and where he was hiding and when he did--

_No._

Mello broke off in-midthought. He knew what he wanted to do, but if he didn't act quickly he'd lose both Lester and the laundry. He stood, torn as Lester quietly put the folded shirts into a navy duffle bag, zipped it up, and headed for the doors. Mello made a rash decision and dashed out after him. He still had some money left over. He and Matt could buy new things, or steal some if it came down to that.

Between clothes and finding the new SPK hideout, the hideout came first.

It wasn't because Mello needed information or because he had a score to settle with the remaining members. This time, all Mello wanted was to see Near.

But it wasn't only want--it was need. There was that lingering sort of storm on the horizon, and Mello was waiting for it to break. When it did, he knew disaster would be following him like his own shadow. And that was why he had to see Near before that happened. He had things to tell him.

Mello stopped for a second when he realized he was getting a little too close as Lester entered the subway station. Lester bought a ticket a passed through the turnstiles. Mello simply flashed them his boarding pass. He watched as the man boarded one of the trains, and then dashed into an adjoining car at the last second, much to the displeasure of the other passengers. It was only around six-thirty and it was Friday. People were either heading home or getting a head-start on a night out. The whole train car was packed.

The only reason Mello could even keep up with Lester was because Lester was a good head taller than half the people on the train, so he stuck out above the crowd. Mello kept his head down and hood up. The less he looked around, the less people paid attention to him. And attention was what he didn't need.

Then the train finally ground to a halt at North Something-or-other street and Mello watched as Lester began fighting his way through the crowd to the door. Mello ducked and did the same, passing out the doors and into the near-empty station.

Lester was heading for the staircase, and then he disappeared back into the upper world. Mello followed, watching as his breaths sat on the chilly air like smoke. He pulled his jacket around himself tighter, reached around and patted his pistol to make sure it was still in its spot in the front of his pants and continued to follow Lester.

The crowds were thick, and Christmas wreaths glittered on all the lampposts. A woman broke a away from the crowd and tugged on Mello's coat.

"Hey sir, ya got a dollar I can borrow? I need subway fare."

Mello jerked his coat out of her hands. "No," he said. "Excuse me, I'm in a hurry."

"Not even some spare change?"

"No."

"Nothing at--"

"I SAID NO, GODDAMMIT!" Mello yelled, pulling his hood back so she could see his face.

The woman took one look at the scar and went pale.

"I'm sorry," she said, scurrying away. "I won't bother ya again."

Mello paused for a moment and drew in a breath. A crowd waiting to cross the street was staring at him like he was crazy. And it was when Mello looked up at those people that he realized he'd lost Lester, or at least it seemed like he had. He couldn't see Lester anywhere. No Lester, no Near. No Near...well, maybe those people were right to be afraid of him at the moment.

Then Mello looked up, straight across the street, just in time to see someone vaguely Lester-ish to disappear inside a large white marble building. It was some fancy hotel, with half the name written in French. Mello never understood why people did that. If you couldn't read it, how the hell would you ever remember it?

He ignored the blazing orange Do Not Walk symbols and ran across the street, just missing being hit by a large blue minivan. His palm slammed against the revolving glass door of the hotel, like he was claiming himself as the winner of a race. It was a race against that damned storm.

And then he was in the lobby, and the heat melted his frozen thighs and made its way up to his bare stomach and numb shoulders. Mello was surprised to feel again, especially since he realized he'd been numb and hadn't known it. He sighed and was surprised that he couldn't see his breath; he'd been outside too long. He'd been numb and unaware until now. Cold was a dangerous breed of creature.

Mello felt something inside him move and he remembered a story, half like he was there and half like he wasn't. Spots of things that he pieced together.

Near, wearing just a clean pajama shirt, seated on a rocking chair.

Near, forced inside a hot shower.

Himself, sneaking down a dark hallway to the linen closet, trying not to wake anyone but knowing he was failing, since the old place creaked so loudly with every step. Near, complaining the water was too hot. Near, with a cold stomach and soft, cold thighs forcing his way into Mello's bed. Cold feet on the tile floor of the kitchen, headed for the washroom. Cold sink water, then hot, then cold soap that smelled like flowers and old ladies. Warm stomach. Warm thighs. Warm breath.

Mello took a seat on one of the pink-and-cream-striped couches. The women behind the counter were staring at him, whispering. He knew he didn't belong in some fancy place like this. It just wasn't his style.

He walked over to the counter and slapped a fifty down. "Hey. I have a friend staying here and I need to find his room. Care to be of assistance?"

The older of the two women whispered something to the younger one.

"I'm sorry," she said. "The guest list here is classified information."

"Look lady, I need to see him. It's an emergency."

She shook her head again. "No, I'm sorry. I can't do that for you."

Mello turned towards the older, more frail woman. She glared at him with a cold look in her eyes. "You're nothing but trouble," she said firmly. "Don't you turn on this old woman thinking you can crack me. Now either you get out or I have you escorted out."

He fingered his gun, then figured it wasn't worth it. If he spent the night in jail it meant Matt would have to pay bail, Mello wouldn't find out where Near was, and it'd deter Matt from setting up the bugs and surveillance he was working on. That, and Matt would ask some nasty questions. Mello wouldn't answer those questions, but it'd make working with Matt difficult. Normally Matt kept out of Mello's business, but if he got involved, then he'd force his way in.

This was something Matt didn't need to be involved in.

Mello backed his way out of the lobby, the old woman's sharp-eyed gaze from behind the counter on him the whole time. He was angry now, but he kept his calm as he slammed through the revolving door. Mello was rash from time to time, be he wasn't stupid. Rash and stupid were two entirely different things.

He saw the fire escape in the alleyway. It was a standard on old buildings like these, and thought the ladder to it was ten feet up, it was no challenge. Mello jumped for it, his gloved hands catching the bottom bar. He tugged on it. It was rusted in place. Mello struggled and managed to slowly pull himself up.

He sat on the first landing and rested. Now all he had to do was climb the stairs, and search the floors one by one. The SPK would most likely have a floor all to themselves, so he'd have to look for either unoccupied rooms or rooms with telltale items, things SPK would have.

Mello didn't expect that Near would be sitting at the window.

It was when he made it to the sixteenth floor, three from the top. The curtains to the room were half-closed, and Mello was so pissed off and ready to break a window just to search the hotel in the comfort of the warm hallways that he almost failed to realize that someone was sitting next to the window, flying a Gundam through the air in the dim moonlight.

Near.

Blank eyes moved slowly, towards the window, and Mello waited. Near ignored him. Mello growled and reached for his gun. He held it to the window and rapped it against the glass.

"Open the damn window, Near."

Near gave him an black, innocent look and twirled a piece of hair around his fingers.

Mello kicked one of his boots against the glass. "I said open it! Fuck Near, can't you just do something for once?"

Near said nothing.

"Fine."

Mello aimed at the latch, took a step back and fired.

The top part of the window shattered, the latch became a mashed lump of metal, and the loud sound of the gunfire resounded off the alley walls.

Near finally spoke as Mello lifted the window open and climbed in. "That was stupid."

"No, that was rash. I don't do stupid. I'm not fuckin' stupid, Near."

"No, it was stupid. Now it's going to get cold in here. Close the curtains behind you, please."

"Fuck you," Mello said as he yanked the curtains shut with much more force than necessary. His gaze lingered on Near for a moment, and then on the duffel bag in the corner.

Near followed Mello's gaze and tugged on his hair, thinking.

"I know you followed Lester here."

"So what if I did? He was stupid enough to let me follow him." Mello remembered Lester folding Near's pajama shirts with such care that he laughed a little. "You guys can't even do your own laundry in this place," he said. "What a joke."

Near set his Gundam on the coffee table and turned so he was actually facing Mello. "Why are you here, Mello? You must want something, so out with it."

Mello bit down on his lip. Near was in control now, not as planned. He had a gun, but Near had that damn cool head. And since shooting Near had never really been an option from the start, Mello had no choice but to let the conversation go how Near wanted it to.

Mello took a breath. He was used to losing it in front of Near, but right now he couldn't afford to.

"You know," he said. "You know it's coming soon, right? It's like a storm, a bad one."

"Yes. It's supposed to snow."

"It's not like that," Mello said slowly.

He paused and slung his coat on the floor, adjusting his vest to have something to do with his hands. The room was deadly quiet.

Mello spoke again, and Near just watched with blank eyes. "Hey. You know I don't really hate you anymore, right?"

That was the first time Mello saw Near look stunned. It was only for a second, and then his eyes went dead again, but it was there. Near had been surprised by this, hadn't expected it. Mello thought it might be obvious.

"What makes you say that?"

"I don't," Mello said. "Look, I've been thinking, and as much as I hate you and will never work with you in all of my life, I don't hate you. It's like, if you weren't here, I wouldn't have a fucking reason to do anything, because there wouldn't be anyone for me to beat. So I still hate you, and I'm still going to beat you by catching Kira first. I will be number one. I'm going to win, Near."

"You've contradicted yourself. First you said you hated me, then you said you didn't hate me, then you said you did. You're not making much sense, Mello."

"Yeah, well...wait. Why the fuck aren't you wearing pants?"

Near glanced down at his thin legs, bare and pale. "If you just noticed that now, you observational skills must be degrading, Mello."

"You're so damn weird. Not wearing pants, playing with all those freaky toys of yours..."

"You wear leather. And you carry a gun. You eat chocolate almost constantly, and you're part of the mafia, Mello. We're both only as strange as the other says."

Mello knelt down in front of Near's chair. "You'll pay for that later," he said. Then, as was becoming habit, he changed the subject again. "Remember that one night when you were ten?"

"A lot of things happened when I was ten. You'll have to be more specific, Mello."

Mello put his hand on Near's calf and straightened out his leg. He kissed the inside of Near's thigh. "It's cold," he whispered into the skin. "Just like that night. It was the only time you wet the bed, remember? You had to much to drink and then you had a nightmare. You were sitting there, and you didn't know what to do, and then I walked past your room on my way to the kitchen. I changed your sheets, and showered you and let you sleep in my bed. Do you remember that?"

"What are you doing? Mello, please remove you hand from my leg."

"You remember," Mello said softly. "You weren't wearing any pants that night, either, because it was laundry day and all you had left was a shirt. Your thighs were cold. Always cold. Your stomach, too."

Mello knew he would get to Near like this. Near could deal with real situations, life and death and greed and suffering, but he couldn't deal with something like this. It was a matter of personal choice, a choice of what Near _wanted_, not what was _best_, and Near had never been taught how to deal with that.

Mello rubbed his cheek against the soft skin of Near's thigh. He licked it, kissed it, gave up and worshiped it like it was the most important thing in the world. He reached his hands up and tugged at Near's underwear. It was the soft, white cotton kind, the kind little boys wore. White, to match the rest of Near. He pulled it down so it rested around Near's knees. Near said nothing, just lifted himself off the chair a little and let him do it.

Near's hands dug deep into the armrest while Mello gently ran his fingertips along Near's calves, then the underside of his thighs and back down again. Soft white legs stood out against the chair Near sat on, a chair with the same pink-and-cream fabric as the couches from the hotel lobby. Mello reached up for the buttons of Near's shirt and gently, slowly pulled them open one by one. Soft white Near, soft pink-and-cream colored room, soft snow falling quietly outside.

Tonight was a soft night.

Mello pushed his face deep between Near's thighs, and Near gripped the armrests of the chair tighter. Mello snaked his hands around Near's back and pulled him close. He took Near's slowly hardening length in his mouth. Near was small in all aspects, so it wasn't a challenge. Mello pressed his face against Near's body while he took all of him in his mouth. He felt Near jump a little, but held him steady as he slowly pulled his lips back and gave Near a good, long lick.

Near shuddered and spread his thighs apart, flung his head back. There were no words to say for this. Mello could feel the deep heat that came from Near's body against his lips. Near was no longer cold. Warm stomach, warm thighs.

Mello removed his lips and licked a long trail up Near's stomach. He could smell something wet and salty. It was the same taste that was on his tongue, the taste that came from between Near's legs. It was a taste Mello liked. Salty, yet sweeter than chocolate.

Mello reached higher, aiming to kiss Near's neck as Near slowly slid deeper into the cushion of the chair. His eyes were still blank, still cold, and his mouth was tense, like he was trying not to break his poker face.

"Near, say something."

Near sat there, knees up and thighs apart, and said nothing. He just stared out from under his curling white bangs at Mello. One of his hands slowly reached down, and he touched himself with a slow-yet-trembling fervor. Hip lips parted, and a tinge Mello had yet to see rose in his cheeks. Near gave himself a slow stroke, then gasped like he was on the verge of tears and quickly withdrew his hands. His eyes were no longer blank, but small and frightened, and he was looked at Mello, like he was begging silently for help or explanation as to what was happening.

Mello brought his mouth back to Near's thigh and kissed it, licked it, nipped at it until Near's hand shook and once again tentatively made its way to between his legs, where he was hot and sticky to an almost painful point. Mello grabbed the back of Near's thighs and slid him forward so his feet were touching the floor and Mello was cradling his bottom in his arms. His upper torso and head were still on the chair as Mello buried his face between Near's legs and began to lick, slowly, waiting for Near to make some sort of noise.

Near curled his fingers deep into Mello's hair and pulled his head forward, closer, so Near was completely inside Mello's mouth and Mello's soft breath tickled his stomach. There was no sound in the room except for Near's heavy breaths and the wet sound of lips on skin. Mello flicked his tongue against the head of Near's erection inside his mouth, and Near's fingers curled tighter and he jolted forward. Mello licked that spot again, feeling the slit, then feeling until he found a spot that he knew would give Near a sharp, white-hot pleasure that would make him cry.

His tongue was gentle, but it didn't matter. Near still felt it a thousand times, soft and bright and white-hot. It was almost painful to a point. Then Mello gave his hardest lick of all, and Near felt himself quiver and explode. He tried to keep quiet, to prevent himself from moving, but it was impossible. His back arched in Mello's arms, and Mello felt something hot explode into his mouth. Some of it dripped onto his lips.

Near rested, breathing heavily once it was done. He still didn't say anything, just slid out of the chair and onto the floor, where he crumpled against Mello. Cool leather rested under his sticky cheek.

Mello licked his lips clean and pulled Near in tighter. "I want to make love to you," he said quietly. "In that huge bed of yours over there, with all the pillows. But you'd never let me, would you?"

"Then since you've already decided that, there's no point in asking me, is there?"

Mello pulled back and looked into those dead eyes he was so used to. "Would you really let me if I said I was going to, and you couldn't stop me?"

"If I wanted to stop you, would I have even let you come this far? Mello, you're not thinking, like always. I have the SPK just down the hall. If I really wanted to, I could've called Lester in here ages ago."

"So you want me?"

"I didn't say that."

Near wrapped his legs around Mello's stomach and wound his arms tightly around his neck as Mello stood up and carried him over to the neatly made bed. It was clear Near hadn't slept in it yet, probably because Mello suspected Near never slept much. Near's hands toyed with the zipper of Mello's vest before he unzipped it just enough so that he could see the bare expanse of Mello's collarbone. He ran a few soft fingers over it, just taking in the feel of Mello's skin.

Mello laid Near down on the bed and began removing his own clothes. He unzipped his vest and tugged at the laces on his tight pants, until finally he was standing naked in front of Near. He was not ashamed.

"There's no going back," he breathed. Mello crawled up onto the bed and positioned himself over Near's small body. "We're going to do this now, you hear? I'm going to fuck you, Near, does that even matter to you?"

Near took a sharp breath, closed his eyes, and turned his head away. He refused to look.

Mello drew his hand back and brought it against Near's cheek with a loud cracking sound. "That's all you're going to say? NOTHING? I just told you I was going to make love to you, I sucked you off, and all you're going to do is tell me there's no point in saying anything because you won't be able to stop me in any right?" He brought his hands around Near's shoulders and gripped him tight and shook him. "ANSWER ME!" he yelled. "For fuck sakes Near, say _something_!"

A haughty smile played on the edges of Near's lips. "What's wrong, Mello? You seem scared."

Mello sat up on his knees and drew Near up with him. He shook Near harder than before, tears coming to the corners of his eyes. "YOU KNOW WHAT THIS IS ABOUT! I don't have much time before--"

The door clicked open, and the large figure of Lester stood there, blocking most of the light from the hallway. Mello couldn't see his expression in the darkness, but he was sure it was confused and surprised and angry and ready to kill him all at once. Near fell back onto the bed with a soft thump as Mello let go of him and knelt there, caught between doing something and saying something and thinking something, in some cold sort of world where he couldn't do or say or think but just blindly stare, unable to process what was happening.

And then there was the cold metal barrel of a gun to his forehead.

"Get out," Lester was growling. "Get out before I pull this trigger like I so badly want to, you scum."

"I didn't do anything."

"Like hell you didn't."

"Lester."

It was Near, who sat up, leaving his unbuttoned white shirt hanging off his shoulder at an odd angle.

"Lester, he's right. You can't do anything. I'm eighteen, and I consented. It's legal here. You can't shoot him, much as he deserves it."

Lester hesitated, but removed the gun and tucked it back into its holster. Mello was off the bed and gathering his clothes in a second.

"Mello," Near said as he dressed. "Make sure you close the window on your way out. I don't want to catch a cold."

"Fuck you, Near."

And with that, Mello was out the window and onto the fire escape, disappearing into the quiet, white night.

Lester didn't dare move any closer to the barely-clothed Near as he spoke. "What was that all about?" he said. "I heard him screaming at you, so I just assumed that--"

"He lost it." Near said. "He's scared. He can feel it, Lester. Can't you? There's something...soon. Mello just came here to tell me something important."

"What did he tell you?" Lester demanded. "More about Kira? Something important like that?"

"No," Near said, heaving himself off the bed and resuming his original position in the chair where Mello had first found him. He looped a single white hair around his finger and let go, watching it curl. "He came to say goodbye."


End file.
